


Weather, Wounds, Wire

by Kiraly



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Flash Fic, Poetry and Prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-17 00:36:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10582749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: The winter of Year Zero comes with many challenges.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this week's Synchronised Screaming Flash Fic Challenge. The theme was "Poem titles" so I ended up incorporating a little poetry in, too. :)
> 
> Prompt: Any Prologue Norwegian, Barbed-wire Winter

 

_ Snow again, as always _

_ coats the town in white shrouds _

_ like sheets wrapped _

_ over friends _

_ and neighbors _

_ and the people you couldn't stand. _

_ Winter has ever been sharp, _

_ but this year allows nothing else. _

_ Icicles form _

_ over barbed wire _

_ and we wait. _

 

At first, no one noticed when the world changed. They thought it was local, the closed road and the endless rain keeping them cut off from everyone else. Reports of an illness and closing borders were met with shrugs and complaints about day-old newspapers. Some few, more prone to worry than most, took the warnings seriously. They ferried in supplies and loved ones; they holed themselves up to wait. The good news they hoped for never came.

Sigrun had never thought of herself as a particularly hopeful person in the first place, though. Sure, she wasn't a worry-wart like Aksel, but when things went bad she didn't sit around assuming they'd get better. She grumbled along with the rest of them—no fresh supplies, electronics that worked less and less well as the weeks went on, rain that kept them all soggy—but she didn't go around saying things like 'it will all be better when spring comes.'

"Ugh, this snow! I can't wait for spring." 

"It's only December, Aksel. It's going to get worse before it gets better."

Aksel shot her a sour look and pulled his collar closer around his neck. "Thanks, Sigrun. You sure know how to cheer a guy up."

Sigrun bent down and casually scooped up a fistful of snow. She passed it from hand to hand, not really looking at Aksel. "Yes, well. You know that's always been my goal, making you feel better. And think of it this way—it could be so much worse! Your grandmother could still be in her old apartment, slowly starving to death while her cat nibbles on her toes." They'd heard reports that food was scarce in the city, even worse than it was in Dalsnes. And of course, rumor spun that information into all kinds of horrifying scenarios, most of which Sigrun didn't believe. The same could not be said for Aksel.

"Sigrun! Don't say things like that! I'm so thankful she made it here safe, where the rash and the cannibals can't get to her." Aksel pressed his hands to his chest. "And she'll be even safer once the wall is finished."

Sigrun grimaced. That damn wall—of all the changes they'd had to make, that was the one that made her the craziest. Who were they trying to keep out? Dalsnes was isolated enough, especially with the road washed out, that no one would be stupid enough to approach on foot. The ban on water travel had come through just before the radios malfunctioned, so they hadn't seen a boat for weeks. But no matter how unnecessary it was, the people in charge were paranoid enough to add more safety precautions. 

"I still say it's a dumb idea," she said. "It's just going to make it harder to get food, if the hunters have to go through some kind of checkpoint every time they leave."

"Yeah, but...isn't it better to be safe than sorry? I heard the rash doesn't just make people sick, they've started seeing it in animals, too."

Sigrun stopped, snow clutched in the curve of her red-mittened hands. "Really? Like plague rats? I don't believe it."

"Well then,  _ you  _ can be the one to test it out. I'll do my best to avoid being bitten, thanks."

Right. That was enough of the gloom-and-doom talk. Sigrun pushed past Aksel, dropping her snowball down the neck of his jacket as she did so. His shouts followed her all the way home.

* * *

 

_ Sun spreads red _

_ across the roofs, _

_ morning  _

_ tinting the town. _

_ Mourning _

_ shades every face _

_ except for those _

_ whose minds _

_ are no longer their own. _

 

The barrier fence was halfway complete when the first attack came. Three people dead, two wounded. Four more possibly infected, held in quarantine and made to tend the injured. From what little they'd gleaned from news reports—when news of the outside world still came in—it would be two weeks before they knew for sure. 

"Do you...do you want to talk about it?" Aksel asked, sitting down next to her. Sigrun shook her head. Blood had started to seep through the bandage on her hand again; she’d have to change it soon. It wasn't even a scratch or a bite from one of those twisted creatures; that would at least have been interesting. No, she'd managed to catch herself on the damned barbed wire.  

"Are you going to gloat a little? Rub my face in it?" She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. Aksel looked wounded.

"Why would I do that? You’re hurt, that’s awful!” He picked up a fresh roll of bandage and took her hand. “I’m just glad you weren’t anywhere near the area of the attack, or they’d probably have quarantined you, too.” He unwrapped the dirty bandage carefully, as though her hand might break if he didn’t.

Sigrun glared at him. “Yeah, but then I’d  _ know.  _ Waiting like this is the worst, because even when this heals I won’t know if I’m immune to the rash. I’ll always be looking over my shoulder for the next attack. How am I supposed to live like that?”

Aksel shook his head. "How else are we supposed to live now? All we can do is wait. Maybe the rash will die down."

"Or maybe  _ we'll  _ die," Sigrun muttered, "Go crazy hiding behind walls that we hope will protect us." She'd heard the stories. She knew the rash made people lose themselves, slowly dwindling into something less. If the cut on her hand had come from an infected animal instead of a wire, that could have been her.

"Sigrun—"

"I think I want to be left alone for a while," she said. "Thanks for redoing my bandage." She looked away.

Aksel stood, sighing heavily. "All right. You know where to find me if you...if you need anything." He squeezed her shoulder and departed.

Sigrun sat for a long time staring into the fire, trying not to look at her hand. Trying, and failing, to think of anything other than the people in quarantine on the other side of town.

* * *

 

_ Quiet dark _

_ creeps under our skin _

_ into bones _

_ and veins _

_ and souls. _

_ We await _

_ our sentence: _

_ transformation _

_ or release _

_ nothing in between. _

_ We wait _

_ for spring. _

 

They finished the fence, but that only kept them safe to a certain extent. Some people had to leave the walls, to guard and to hunt and to salvage whatever they could from abandoned buildings. And beyond the walls, there was no guarantee of safety.

"Aksel."

He didn't respond, just curled more tightly under his blanket. Sigrun sat on the edge of the bed.

"Aksel, come talk to me."

"Go away."

She rolled her eyes, grasped the edge of the blanket, and  _ yanked _ . Aksel yelped and sat up to glare at her.

"Hey!" He reached for the blanket, but Sigrun held it away. "Not until you let me check your injury. You're not allowed to die in quarantine if you don't actually have the rash." Her own wound was shallow; easy enough to check it herself. The one on the back of Aksel's leg was more worrying.

"Fine." He rolled up his pant leg and turned his back so she could see it. "This doesn't get any less awkward, does it?" 

Sigrun undid the bandage and cleaned the wound, keeping an eye out for signs of infection. For signs of  _ any  _ kind of infection. They were a week into quarantine, and so far neither of them showed any symptoms of the rash, but they still had a week to go.

"Looks okay," she said eventually, carefully securing the new bandage. She gave him a reassuring slap, which made him jump and glare at her again.

"Sigrun!" His face burned nearly as red as his hair, and he hurried to adjust his clothes.

"What?" She feigned innocence. "I can't give you a 'congratulations, your wound isn't septic' pat?"

Aksel reclaimed his blanket and wrapped himself in it. "Is that what that was? I thought it was a 'hey, I felt like slapping your ass' pat. It's hard to tell the difference with you." He lay down again, but this time he stayed facing her.

Sigrun watched him for a minute. Thought about going back to her own bed in the other room, where the woman in the neighboring bed wouldn't stop crying. Her partner had shown signs of the rash that morning, and had been taken away to a different part of quarantine. They all did their best not to think about  _ that  _ part. 

In the spirit of not thinking about things, Sigrun barely hesitated before joining Aksel on the bed. "Gimme some blanket," she said. 

"What are you doing now?" He grumbled. He made no move to stop her though, even when she wormed her way under the blanket and poked his shins with her cold toes. She tucked herself against his chest and wrapped an arm around him.

"The way I see it," she said, "We're stuck in here until we find out if we're dead or alive. Might as well keep each other company. It's warmer with two, anyway."

And it made it easier to avoid thinking of their predicament when she could focus on other things. Aksel's breathing, instead of the scratch on her arm that might have killed her. The beating of his heart, rather than the howling winds and monsters in the dark. The warmth of his skin: normal, healthy, human warmth. Not the burn of fever. None of that yet, and maybe, if they were lucky, it would never come.

Aksel must have felt the same, because he didn't bother arguing. He draped his arm over her, let her share his warmth and his space. They waited.

* * *

 

_ Snow turns to _

_ slush turns to _

_ ice turns to _

_ water. _

_ Winter turns _

_ to spring. _

 

Sigrun shouldered her rifle and kept her eyes on the trees, doing her best to listen for anything unusual. It was hard, what with the noise the repair crew was making. She didn't envy them their task. Reinforcing the fence, mending the hole where an attack had gotten through, was hard enough; the added challenges of mud and half-melted ice made it all worse. Guard duty was far preferable, in her opinion. It was just as well she was immune, and could stand outside the barrier with minimal risk. An infected creature could still kill her, but the rash couldn't.

Aksel came to stand beside her, juggling his gun and a flask. “Tea?” He asked, offering the latter to Sigrun. She took it from him with a nod.

“Sure, if only to keep you from dropping it. Get your gun in position, you’re going to shoot something on accident.” She took a swig; the hot beverage warmed her all the way down to her toes.

“Sorry,” he said, hastily adjusting his grip. “I just thought you might want a hot drink. It’s still a little chilly, even with the thaw.”

“Yeah.” Sigrun knew how fickle spring could be; they weren’t out of the woods yet. And they didn’t know what new dangers might come with warmer weather, either. But with longer sunlit hours every day, it was safe to say that winter was starting to relax its grip. They’d made it through in spite of everything. Maybe they’d make it through the next winter, too.


End file.
